Sons of the Desert
by amokima
Summary: A Young Jack O'Neill meets a young Daniel Jackson when his dad is transfered to Egypt. AU
1. Chapter 1

Title: Sons of the Desert  
Author: Amokima  
Disclaimer: all the usual

The teenager strolled past the stalls at the bazaar, pausing every now and then when some interesting item caught his eye. He was looking for something bright and colourful. Something that would hopefully make his ma forget about being mad at him for wandering around the streets of Cairo by himself. Hopefully, distract her from mentioning it to his pa, who'd tan his hide raw for this escapade.

Wandering the back streets of the city alone was dangerous for any westerner, especially if you were an American and doubly especially if you were military; or, in the fifteen year old's case, military brat. Colonel Patrick O'Neill had been transferred to Egypt two weeks ago. Accompanying him was his wife Rose, and his sons Jack and Pat Jr. His eldest child, Anne, had remained in the States, currently in her second year of studying fashion design at college. And one of the first things he had forbidden his sons to do was wander on their own. According to him, they'd end up having everything down to their underwear stolen, be beaten insensible, kidnapped and sold or end up very, very dead.

So Jack, naturally, couldn't resist the challenge.

Besides, he was convinced his pa was just exaggerating and being over paranoid. Must be a side effect of being in the Air Force for all his adult life.

Which was why Jack now found himself in front of a stall fingering a colourful linen scarf that was destined to pacify his ma.

He had heard about these types of bazaar markets and had looked forward to trying his hand at bargaining with the stallholders over their products. The only trouble was, he had just realized he couldn't understand a single world the man was saying. Damn.

He was feeling more and more out of his depth when he heard English being spoken.

"You don't speak Arabic, do you? Do you want some help here?" The voice came from right behind him.

Jack spun around, his father's warning leaping to the front of his mind, expecting to see some dark, dangerous Egyptian thug ready to steal, beat or kill. Instead, lowering his gaze, he espied a small, grubby boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, with a curious and helpful expression on his face.

Jack relaxed when he caught sight of the little tyke. Just a kid.

Jack brightened. By the sound of it, just a kid who spoke English as well as the local lingo. And judging by the thin and dirty look of him, plus the hopeful expression, eager to be of help to the clueless foreigner in exchange for some monetary reward for his efforts.

Well, why not? That would mean he could buy the scarf and get his ma off his back. Sweet!

"Yeah! Sure, that'd be great. Thanks!"

The boy gave Jack a bright smile, stepped up to the table and proceeded to quickly chatter to the man with the stall. He had no idea what was being said, but after ten minutes of excited exchanges of words and gestures, the lad proudly announced a price of 17 Egyptian pounds. Jack took a minute to convert that in his head to three or four US dollars.

Happy with the bargain he was getting, he forked over the required cash and took possession of the beautiful scarf. Turning away from the stall with the young boy, Jack passed him a few pounds and gave him a grin.

"Thanks for that. I don't really think I knew what I was doing there."

"My pleasure," the boy responded with a polite bow. Well, an awkward polite bow, but it was obvious the little tyke was trying to emulate his elders in their dealings. Trouble was, he was bit clumsy and stumbled into the older boy.

Jack refrained from laughing in amusement at the kid's efforts and straightened him up.

"Well, I gotta get going now or my ma will be looking for me. Thanks again. See ya 'round."

He gave a small wave and headed back the way he'd come, headed for their new house. Looking back, he saw the lad disappear into the crowd.

Feeling hungry, he stopped at a vendor selling food of some sort that he couldn't recognize but still looked edible. Reaching for his money, his hand didn't encounter what it was searching for. Checking all his pockets, he discovered they were all void of his wallet, loose change, keys, a few of his favored marbles, the letter from his now long-distance girlfriend and a small necklace he had bought for said long-distance girlfriend. The scarf for his ma was still in his hand. He also noticed his cool military watch, the one his friends back home had all been jealous of, was gone.

"Oh, crap!" Jack panicked slightly, trying to think how, when, where, who, why. His pockets had been occupied when he bought the scarf.

He then remembered the boy; his clumsy attempt at a bow and how he'd stumbled into Jack.

Shit! It was that damn kid! That little kid was a damn pickpocket!

Crap. There was no way he could keep this from his parents now. The kid had gotten his keys and wallet. Unfortunately, he had to notify his ma and pa. Colonel Patrick was going to be madder than a cut snake. He just hoped the scarf would calm his ma a bit as she could get as scary or scarier than the old man.

Dejectedly, he turned for home, cursing that pint-sized fiend who'd just relieved him of his belongings.

A/N Thanx for being beta Lyn

Hope you all enjoy. Feedback craved!


	2. Chapter 2

Sons of the Desert 2?  
Warnings: mild violence and mild language

He was right. Jack's ma and pa were absolutely irate when he admitted what had happened. He got an hour of yelling, lecturing and was grounded for three weeks. The worst of it though, was when his ma had suddenly sat down at the kitchen table and just started crying quietly. Didn't say or do anything, just sat there with tears falling; it frightened him.

And that was what scared Jack into obeying his punishment. Usually, after two or three days of being grounded, he got so bored with it, he snuck out of his bedroom window to hang out with his friends.

This time he stayed home. For the whole three weeks. Not even sulking in his room, as was his usual MO. Jack stayed with his ma, helping her around the house and just hanging out and being with her. He never wanted to make her cry like that again.

Meanwhile, he also started school with the other military brats on base. There were only two others around the same age as he was, Lisa and Paul, who seemed to spend most of their free time making out. He struck up a tentative friendship with them but Jack couldn't really see it going much further than the classroom. Oh well.

By the time three weeks had passed, he was starting to feel bored and was eager to go out exploring. His ma's earlier tears had lost their impact due to time passing and so two days after his grounding had lifted, he ventured out into the streets of Cairo by himself once again.

Having no particular destination in mind, Jack meandered the city, taking his time and just observing whoever and whatever he passed by.

Turning a corner along a winding back street, Jack came to a halt. He'd stumbled across a fight.

A small boy was being set upon by three others around four or five years older. He had to give the kid credit; he was defending himself with enthusiasm and giving back as good as he got, but he really wasn't much of a match against all of his opponents at the one time. They were bigger and stronger, punching, kicking and yelling what Jack presumed were insults. The kid would lose.

Jack's sense of fair play kicked in and he found himself wading into the fray, fists a-flying, going to the aid of the boy. He was bigger and older than all of them and had been taking boxing lessons since he was ten, so they didn't stand much of a chance against him, especially once the boy, realizing he now had help, rallied flagging energy and renewed his efforts in repelling his attackers. After a few minutes, the skirmish abated as the three boys realized they no longer had such easy targets and fled the scene.

Standing there, staring after the retreating young thugs, Jack watched as the kid slumped against a wall, his head bowed, and slid downwards to settle on the ground.

Concerned, but not knowing any Arabic with which to ask the boy if he was alright, Jack crouched next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Startled by the contact, the lad abruptly shot to his feet and skittishly backed away a few paces, warily keeping an eye on the older youth.

The first thing Jack noticed was that the boy was holding a sharp looking knife.

The second thing he noticed was that the boy was bleeding from cuts on his arms, a cut on his face and there was blood staining the front of the grubby rags that served as clothes. The knife had blood on it also, obviously garnered from his opponents. Shit! He'd barged into a knife fight without even noticing! He was exceedingly lucky he wasn't dead or seriously injured himself.

The third thing Jack noticed was that this boy was the same little fiend who had flogged everything from Jack's pockets at the bazaar three weeks ago!

Eyed widening, ire growing, he took a step forward.

"You!"

The boy stepped backwards in time with Jack's movements.

"You're the little shit that picked my pockets the other week."

The boy muttered something in Arabic that he couldn't understand.

"I want my stuff back, you little bastard!"

The kid stared intently at Jack before rapidly glancing behind himself, then hastily bringing his gaze back to Jack.

Jack took another angry step towards the little thief before ceasing suddenly with curiosity, noticing a fourth thing about the boy.

Taking advantage of Jack's brief distraction, the kid bolted, quickly out of sight, leaving Jack vaguely perplexed.

How did an Egyptian street-rat end up with blue eyes?

a/n ta to lyn again for beta-ing

feed back welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

Sons of the Desert 3/?

Hiding the fact he'd been in a fight was never going to be an option. A nice shining bruise developed on his cheek as the rest of the day wore on and there was no way he would be able to stand wearing pants and long sleeved tops to hide the ones on his limbs. Jack was just glad the few small cuts he hadn't realized he'd received weren't really that noticeable.

He didn't even try to lie to his parents when he got home. He always felt his ma could see right through him when he did anyway. So Jack just said he'd 'gotten into a bit of a scuffle with some of the other boys' and let them infer what they would from that. Thankfully, they seemed to take this to mean some boys at school. Jack didn't think he should divest them of this notion.

So Jack took his licks for fighting and that was the end of it.

That night, he couldn't stop thinking about the kid. Jack was curious. He considered what he knew about him. Well, he looked like your typical Egyptian street urchin.

He was as skinny as a rake and looked half-starved. It was painfully obvious he didn't get enough to eat. His clothes hid the fact, but when he'd been next to the boy that afternoon, Jack could tell he was mostly skin and bones.

Ah yes, his clothes. More like dirty rags. In Jack's humble opinion, only fit to be burnt. Shoeless, too.

The rest of him was also filthy.

The boy was a down and dirty fighter, even if he was a little scrap of a thing. Couldn't be more than seven or eight.

He was a damn pickpocket. A good one too, it seemed, as Jack could unfortunately attest to.

He was wary and suspicious, as if he had to always watch his own back.

Everything about him screamed 'homeless beggar-boy.'

But then there were the things that didn't quite fit this picture.

First off, the boy spoke English in addition to Arabic. Good English, it seemed. Jack hadn't really thought about that at the time. He only knew English and without realizing it, his attitude was basically, 'doesn't everyone speak that?' Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that was stupid. This was a foreign country. Of course they didn't all speak English!

He hadn't spoken English with an Arabic accent either Although, as the kid had only uttered one or two sentences in a crowded market place, it was impossible to say what accent it had been.

And then there were those blue eyes.

Jack wasn't sure what they could mean. He could be a white kid. Then again, he could be a by-blow from some western tourist on an Egyptian woman. The kid's skin was dark; but whether that was his natural skin colour, a tan or just the result of too much dirt, Jack couldn't tell. Not when he hadn't really been paying that much attention. It was the same with his hair; it could be any shade under there.

All in all, it meant Jack didn't know what to make of him. But he would keep an eye out and try to spot him again. Jack was curious.


	4. Chapter 4

Sons of the Desert 4/?

oooooooo

Running.

Running and breathing. That was all Jack could concentrate on right now. Running as fast as he could and getting enough oxygen to be able to _keep_ running.

Stupid. He was so stupid. Jack had let his guard down, let himself grow complacent. He'd been out and about numerous times in the past few weeks, just wandering around, getting to know his new home and especially keeping an eye out for that kid who'd piqued his interest – though without any success.

His trips had been uneventful. And so, after time, Jack had forgotten to be wary of the dangers of Cairo.

The next thing he knew he was being chased around the streets and alleyways by five huge, scary, dangerous looking men. His mind flashing back to his pa's warnings on the subject. Jack knew they would kill him, kidnap him for slavery or worse. He was terrified. He was also glad he was so good at running and had a good lead on them.

Jack turned down the next alley and almost immediately tripped over some old wooden crates splayed across the ground. Momentarily stunned with surprise at the spill, Jack felt hands grab him. Before he could react, he was dragged into a small crevice in the wall concealed by more crates and dim light.

ooooooo

He wasn't sure why he'd done it. He'd just reacted.

He'd been lying on the rooftop watching the street below when he'd spotted that foreign boy being chased by men he recognized as belonging to a local gang that stole western tourists and sold them on the slave market.

Immediately he'd crossed the roof and dropped into the alleyway below. He'd had a hunch the guy would dart into the alley to try and evade his pursuers, and as luck would have it, one of his hiding spots was here.

Sure enough, the youth had ducked down the alley. He'd quickly kicked one of the old crates into the older boy's path and tripped him up.

He'd grabbed him as he lay there stunned, pulled him into his hiding place with him and yanked at a crate to cover the hole.

The guy was now recovering from the surprise of his fall and consequent dragging into the wall and was looking around suspiciously as if waiting for something to attack him.

He put his finger to his lips to tell him to be quiet and then motioned for the boy to follow him. He led him further into the wall where the hole dropped down into a small, disused cellar.

Squatting down, he watched this foreign boy and thought again about why he'd rescued him. After a short reflection, he grudgingly admitted to himself that it was because he owed him a life debt.

This was the guy who'd (foolishly) jumped into the fight with Chigaru and his pack of cronies a few weeks ago and probably saved his life. Chigaru had wanted to kill him. He'd managed to piss him off so badly over the past couple of years, so that when he'd lifted the valuables of an oblivious tourist that Chigaru had apparently marked for himself, Chigaru had lost it and went after him then and there. He was only just able to keep himself alive when someone else had entered the fray and helped him beat off the other boys.

That was when he'd realized this was the foreign kid he'd stolen from at the bazaar the other week. Judging from the other guy's reaction, he'd just realized that too. The older boy was angry and looked like he was about to beat him up. He quickly got out of there.

So he owed this guy for saving his life.

He sat there and watched as other boy watched back.

After a few minutes the youth shifted uncomfortably. "Um. Thanks." He spoke in English.

Another minute of silence.

"Ah, I think you just saved my life."

American, for sure with that accent.

The guy gazed around, a bit unsure of his surroundings.

"Sooo… You live here or something?"

He didn't reply, just continued watching.

"Right. Well. Thanks." A sigh. " Ummm. My name's Jack."

Silence.

"What's your name?"

He blinked. "An'nims." He hadn't wanted to give this guy a name but he felt he still owed him.

Jack nodded. "Hi An'nims. Pleased to meet ya."

He just gazed back.

After another minute of silence, Jack shifted again. " So. When do ya think it'll be safe to leave?"

"Soon."

"Good, good. That's good."

More silence.

"Um. Y'know, ahh… Look." A determined look grew across Jack's face. "You nicked my wallet at the bazaar that time. I'd really like it back. It's got a letter from my girlfriend in it that I want back."

An'nims cocked his head and considered. He didn't have the wallet anymore. After he'd emptied it, he had sold it to one of the stall holders at a different bazaar. But he still had the letter. An'nims was a bit of a magpie, keeping and collecting any items he'd stolen but couldn't sell.

He shrugged. Jack sounded like he cared for the letter more than the wallet. And he still owed the guy.

He moved over to where he'd hidden some of his things. Rummaging around, he pulled out the letter.

He delivered it to the other boy, who blinked stupidly a few times at the paper in his hand.

"Uh, thanks. My wallet?"

An'nims shook his head.

"Ah." A faint look of annoyance passed over Jack's face, quickly replaced by resignation.

An'nims moved to the entrance of his hideaway and listened. The only sound was the noise of the busy street nearby. There was no sign of anybody in the alley.

Whispering for Jack to follow, he lead the way back outside. Using some crates stacked against the wall, they ascended to the roof.

ooooooo

Jack was still feeling confused and a bit out of his depth. He was grateful the damn kid had saved his life but he wasn't sure why he'd done it. It was also a bit that he'd just stared at him in silence and only said two words.

At least he'd gotten Jacinta's letter back.

He also now knew the kid's name. An'nims.

When it was all clear, An'nims had led Jack back outside and then up onto the roof of the building. Still saying nothing, the boy headed off, jumping from roof top to roof top. Jack found it fairly simple going at first. Then they came to the next alleyway.

Jack expected they'd have to climb down this side and back up the other if they wanted to continue traveling in this style. But this turned out not to be the case.

There was a plank of wood stretching from one side of the gap to the other. With no hesitation, An'nims quickly scampered across to the other side. The kid stepped off the plank and turned around to watch Jack.

Crap! How the hell did he do that?

He took a deep breath. Ha! He was fifteen! If a kid could do this so could he. No way was he going to let himself look like a wimp.

Jack stood in front of the plank. It was about fifteen inches wide. Steeling himself, arms outstretched, he slowly took a step forward, then another, trying not to look down.

Shit. If he fell, he'd probably break his neck or something.

Trying not to think, just to keep going forward and keep his balance, he eventually made it to the opposite roof; a little sweaty and shaky, but also triumphant and alive.

An'nims just nodded and set off again.

Continuing in this fashion for half an hour, crossing many more alleys and even descending to the ground to cross streets too wide for planks, Jack and An'nims eventually reached an area that Jack recognized. They were near the same bazaar where the kid had picked his pocket.

They climbed down from the rooftop and Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Good. He knew his way home now. He'd gotten lost running from those thugs.

Jack turned around to face An'nims, grateful words of thanks on his lips, and blinked.

The kid had vanished again.

ooooooo

a/n - an'nims is Arabic for ferret.

a/n - any and all feedback craved!!


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for all those waiting for an update to this story. Been really buisy. Also really stumped. 

I know where I want the story to go, but I've got no clue what to do next. It's been extremely frustrating.

Please, anyone one with any ideas about what could happen next, any help would be greatfully appreciated.

If so, put it in the reviews, or better yet directly email me: amokima at gmail dot com (they wont let me write it properly!!)

Ta. amokima


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